


What a Difference a Month Makes

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bearded John Watson, Beards (Facial Hair), Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Couch Sex, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Top John Watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-17 22:29:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15471525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: John's been gone for a month, Sherlock didn't expect him to come home with a beard.





	What a Difference a Month Makes

**Author's Note:**

> Just... because Martin Freeman with a beard

John had been gone a month. Sherlock was not pacing as he waited for the sound of the cab that would be dropping John off. He knew the conference was a good thing for John and that he’d been needed here for a case, and while he'd have preferred to deal with it with John by his side, they’d both agreed that it wasn’t that difficult (to Lestrade’s annoyance). And besides, he would have returned in an instant if Sherlock had asked him to.

The cab finally arrived and Sherlock quit pacing to recline on the sofa as if he’d been there for hours, if not days.

John called out a greeting to Mrs. Hudson and then his feet were on the stairs. Sherlock opened his eyes as John crossed the threshold, putting down his bag.

Sherlock’s eyes widened. For some unknown reason John had grown a beard over the last few weeks. He could have deduced the reason in an instant, but at the moment his brain was shorted out of anything besides the fact that John was here, John looked even better than usual, and John was fixing him with a hungry gaze, taking him in.

John set down his bag and closed the door firmly, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Sherlock shifted, still unable to look away.

Crossing the distance between them, John leaned in and kissed him. Sherlock moaned into the kiss, the unfamiliar sensation of John’s beard against his skin. John pulled the tie of his housecoat and it fell open, his hand drifting over the bare skin where Sherlock’s shirt had ridden up.

Sherlock didn’t have to say how much he’d missed John. It was obvious and the sentiment clearly returned. Sherlock parted his lips and John’s tongue slipped into his mouth, his other hand in Sherlock’s curls.

Groaning softly, Sherlock shoved down his bottoms, exposing his already hard cock.

John smiled. “I just walked in the door,” he murmured, taking Sherlock’s cock in hand and giving him a stroke.

Sherlock reached up and touched John’s cheek, feeling the beard under his fingertips. John turned his head and kissed Sherlock’s palm, then moved down, pulling Sherlock’s bottoms the rest of the way off. Without thinking, Sherlock spread himself wide for his lover, looking down at him.

John licked his lips again, holding Sherlock’s gaze as he shifted him around, bringing his hips to the edge of the sofa and holding him in place.

Sherlock’s head dropped back and he moaned as John’s beard rubbed against his thighs, the firm grip of John’s fingers a familiar sensation to counterpoint the unfamiliar one.

John adjusted Sherlock and dropped his head, tongue dragging against his entrance.

“Oh God,” muttered Sherlock, covering his face with his hands. 

Sherlock wanted to catalog the sensations, but it was all too much. No doubt he’d be feeling it for a while yet, John’s beard dragging against his delicate skin. But he didn’t want it to stop, not for an instant, even as he barely remembered to breathe. John’s tongue pressed into him and he cried out, hands scrabbling for something to hold onto, one of them landing in John’s hair.

John growled, the vibrations making Sherlock toss his head and squeeze the base of his cock to keep himself from coming undone too soon.

Pulling back, John pressed in two fingers instead, other hand going for his belt. “Been thinking about you Sherlock. Missed you. Hoped you’d let me do this.”

Sherlock opened his eyes, wanting to protest that of course he’d let John do this, he wanted nothing more than John’s hands and tongue and body and cock taking him apart and putting him back together again. He wanted John to fill him over and over again, his body and his heart until no one could tell where one ended and the other began. He wanted to say so much and no words came out, but perhaps John saw it in his eyes, because he gave Sherlock a soft smile, wiped his mouth and leaned up to kiss his temple.

Scrabbling in the couch cushions, Sherlock came up with some lube, handing it silently to John. John opened his flies, leaving his jeans on as he coated his cock.

“Ready for me, love?”

Sherlock nodded, adjusting his knees.

Leaning forward, John guided himself inside, watching Sherlock’s face. Sherlock's eyes slid shut again.

“Breathe,” murmured John, bottoming out, bracing himself, and then starting to thrust.

Sherlock moaned and grasped John’s biceps, feeling the strength of him. While he was going to pieces, John was steady, sending him higher, bringing him pleasures he never thought he’d know.

John leaned forward again, beard rubbing against Sherlock’s ear. “Touch yourself,” John whispered, breath coming in short hot pants. 

Sherlock obeyed without question, so close to coming already, eyes screwed tightly shut.

John moved a little faster, the hitches in his breathing telling Sherlock how near he was to his own climax.

“Come, Sherlock,” John ordered. Sherlock groaned as he fell over the edge, come spattering on his shirt, the world going hazy and then still.

Distantly, he was aware of John following him over, filling him, cursing under his breath, hips stuttering erratically.

Finally, John kissed Sherlock’s shoulder. Sherlock kept his eyes closed as he rubbed his cheek against John’s. John chuckled breathlessly. “I take it you want me to keep the beard?”

“Yes,” said Sherlock, reaching up to toy with the hair at the nape of John’s neck.

John turned his head and kissed Sherlock’s cheek, then carefully pulled out. “Come on, shower then you can help me unpack.”

Sherlock grumbled and wrapped his arms around John’s neck, tugging him back down.

Chuckling, John shifted them again until they were laying together on the sofa. “Oh alright, a nap first.”

“You’ve had a long journey, you should rest,” muttered Sherlock. He could feel John smiling fondly, carding his fingers through his hair. John was here and all was right with the world.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr and twitter at merindab


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